Hunting for Marbles
by neutral
Summary: [Of Western Stars universe] In which Hermione begins to question Harry’s family setting, in which Ron attempts a kidnapping of Harry, in which the overprotective godfather and ever peaceful werewolf are forced into several awkward situations.
1. hunting for evil godfathers

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.

a/n: in which Hermione begins to question Harry's family setting, in which Ron attempts a kidnapping of Harry, in which the overprotective godfather and ever peaceful werewolf are forced into several awkward situations.

This story was inspired by fyre's Let Winterlight Come, the story in the Of Western Stars universe that goes through Harry's first year. Many, many thanks to fyre for the all those emails, wonderful ideas and lots of encouragement. In fact, most of the ideas in the coming chapters will be from her. Thank you, fyre, for your brilliant thinking!

Brief coverage of 'Western Stars,' though it's strongly recommended that it's read before reading this: Sirius escapes Azkaban five years into his imprisonment. 

This story takes place during the summer after first and second year.

The order of the stories in the 'Of Western Stars' universe:

_ Of Western Stars by neutral_

_ Clawtracks of a Star by neutral_

_ Let Winterlight Come by fyre_

_ Hunting for Marbles by neutral_

_ Half of Dueling Range by neutral_

_ Good Intentions by neutral_

---

_"A Howler to Dumbledore." Hermione shook her head. "I can't believe it."_

_ "Brilliant," George said in awe, leaning in to join their conversation. "First Professor Snape, then the motorbike, now this. Harry's godfather knows no fear!"_

_ "Of course he's fearless. He escaped from Azkaban," Fred scoffed as he loaded his plate with boiled potatoes._

_- Let Winterlight Come by fyre_

---

** Hunting for Marbles**

By neutral

Part one – hunting for evil godfathers and big, bad werewolves

_… escaped Azkaban?_

The excited chatter of students was nearly deafening that morning, but Hermione found herself brooding rather darkly. 

_ How recent was this? How come I never read about it?_

She munched on a piece of toast, the same she had been nibbling on for the past fifteen minutes, completely unaware of how close she was to chewing on her own fingers.

_No one could have escaped Azkaban. The history books said so. But those books were written in 1986... maybe it happened a few years ago… then…_

Hermione momentarily forgot to swallow.

_… Harry's guardian is an ex-convict?!_

Huffing in silent confusion, she drowned her pumpkin juice in one large gulp.

"Ron," she hissed in a low whisper as soon as she recovered. 

Her voice came out a little more menacing than she intended; the red-head inhaled a bit of his breakfast in shock and looked as if he had trouble breathing through his nose. 

"About what Fred just said," Hermione didn't pause to feel apologetic. She had much larger things on her mind. "Is it true? Harry's guardian really escaped from Azkaban?"

"His godfather?" Ron asked distractedly. His eyes slowly widened. "Wait, you mean you didn't _know_ that? That was huge five years ago." 

"Of course I didn't!" Hermione couldn't help but sound a little put out. "I wasn't _here_ five years ago. All the history textbooks are dated back to the Dark Lord's fall."

"Blimey, Hermione, I thought you knew!" Ron exclaimed, still looking quite stunned. "It's one of the most famous court cases since the fall of You-Know-Who. He was the first man ever to escape Azkaban. Made a huge fuss in the Ministry too. Sirius Black's almost as well known as Harry."

Hermione frowned. "Sirius Black…" 

The name suddenly clicked.

"Wasn't he classified as criminally insane?" she nearly shrieked.

"Well, apparently, he was innocent…"

"He was laughing at the bodies when they caught him, Ron! Even if he didn't kill them, he had to be completely insane to be laughing then!"

"Dumbledore himself vouched for Sirius Black when they gave him Harry," Ron said quickly, feeling rather defensive. "If he was completely nutters, you'd think Dumbledore be more careful about that."

Hermione sighed. "I don't know. It seems that Dumbledore is a bit… eccentric himself…"

Ron suddenly stopped eating. Slowly, he set down his fork and fixed Hermione with an unusually solemn stare. "Hermione, are you saying that Harry's…"

"No!" Hermione said quickly. She hadn't meant her accusations to go that far. She was only questioning how Harry became so independent and self-reliant at such a young age.

But it was Ron who looked worried this time. "You know, Harry has another guardian. He's not legal, but apparently he's some sort of childhood friend of Black's and he was the one who first stood up and declared Black to be innocent. He's been living with them for the past five years… Remus Lupin." Ron's voice sank into a low whisper. "The Daily Prophet claims that he's a werewolf."

Hermione gasped. _What a dangerous life! The adopted son to a werewolf and an ex-convict! _She could definitely see why Harry liked to keep to himself.

Ron frowned pensively, his breakfast completely forgotten. "There's no proof of that, but there's been some rumors floating around. They're recluses or something; before coming to Hogwarts, no one has seen Harry for years. Even the ministry isn't quite sure where to find them. There have been all sorts of speculation about Sirius Black and Remus Lupin because of that. I always thought the newspapers were just spilling the marbles, but—" Ron fiddled with his fork, looking very uneasy. "—I'm not so sure anymore."

Hermione could feel the blood draining from her face then. "What is it?" she asked, already wringing her hands. 

Ron's eyes nervously darted around, checking for suspicious eavesdroppers before dropping his voice even lower. "Harry has these scars."

"What?!"

"Hermione!" Ron hissed in warning as a few startled glances came there way. She looked too shocked to blush. "Look, I don't know if it's anything serious. I haven't thought about it much until now. A few months back, when Harry was changing for quidditch, I thought I saw these lines on his back. There was a really odd shaped scar on his arm. It looked like a spiral…"

"That doesn't sound like a werewolf bite, Ron," Hermione whispered. She was inwardly sighing in relief. "There should be teeth marks."

"But it was a really strange spiral," Ron said insistently. Hermione's worries were contagious, and he was beginning to feel very frightened."like it was drawn on or something. It was too neat, and the scar was completely smooth, like… it was burned on him."

Something in Hermione's gut wrenched. Ron's description was making her recall an article on lost, young children she read some time ago, and it had nothing to do with magic…

"Was the spiral shaped like this?" Hermione could barely keep her hands from shaking as she traced a long loop over her oatmeal with her spoon.

"Yes! Exactly like that! What the hell _is_ that?"

Hermione shivered and dropped her face in her hands. "Ron… that's… that's the shape of a muggle stove."

Harry returned a few days after that for the Farewell Feast, and the conversation was ignored but never forgotten. Ron began to really watch Harry, to the point where he began to question his own obsessiveness. But the idea that his best friend might have been subjected to regular torture didn't sit well with him.

_… and damn it, he is The Boy Who Lived! The people he lives with ought to be decent at least!_

For a day and a night, Ron felt like a stalker. He stared at his friend when he ate, spoke, and read. Ron began to notice how his friend only nibbled at food; how he paled when too many people crowded around him; how he spoke softly and cautiously to some of the older students; and how he curled up tightly in the large chair beside the fireplace like a cat and watched silently while the rest of the common room was filled with boisterous partying Gryffindors after the farewell feast. Hell, Ron even woke up in the middle of the night to check if Harry had nightmares, and found his friend curled up with his blankets fisted in his hands, huddled in the darkest corner of his bed. He took up less space than his pillow.

Then school ended, Hogwarts Express came to a stop, and too soon, Harry was hauled away by a stranger Ron just barely got a glimpse of. Beyond the fact that the mysterious man looked prematurely gray and unnaturally skinny, Ron noticed nothing else and walked away from the train station that day with his stomach doing juggling tricks. 

_ That man looks starved,_ he thought to himself. _He doesn't look like he has enough to eat, but isn't Black really rich? Blimey, what if…_

Ron was suddenly very, very worried.

_ …what if they locked him up? What if that scar's really from a stove? What if that werewolf tried to cook him and eat him? That would definitely explain why the graying man looked so thin; Harry was at Hogwarts and werewolves only ate human meat… _

_Oh no, it made sense! _ At that point, the sadistic part of Ron's mind grabbed the thought and went running with it.

_ Maybe they're just cutting up piece of Harry and eating him… that's why it's just his arm. They let his skin grow back so it doesn't look too suspicious… No! Harry was getting devoured by a werewolf! And maybe an ex-convict who could be a cannibal too! Ack!!_

The moment he got home, he began counting the days down for Harry's letters.

At first, when they didn't come, Ron told himself it was perfectly normal. Instead, he sent his own letter to Harry but the owl returned without a response. He waited. 

Ron started pacing in his room. Then he moved his pacing to the dining room window. Then he began pacing outside. He even started the horrible habit of biting his nails as he paced.

Harry wasn't writing back.

_ They're eating Harry!_ Ron thought desperately. _That's why Sirius Black sounds so worried for Harry's safety. He's his bloody meal!_

Was he overreacting? Naw.

Ron tried to floo to the Moor House, but the fireplace spat him back out. He began writing letters everyday but Errol always returned empty-cawled (not to mention dead tired and keeling over. Percy was becoming fairly irritated with his 'abuse of family reasources'). He attempted to map out the coordinates to Harry's residence to link to an unmarked portkey he stole from his dad, but the place was unplotable.

Ron learned the habit of chewing on his quill.

'Oh, such poor dears,' his mom said one night as she looked over the newspaper. 'There was a werewolf attack in Westmont Range, and three little boys were ripped to shreds. How awful!'

Ron almost threw up. 

Just as he came close to tearing out his hair and writing a long list of complaints to the Ministry demanding immediate action to rescue Harry from his horrible guardians, a snowy owl few into his bedroom window one morning and landed on the edge of his bed.

Hermione was startled awake two weeks into her summer vacation by frantic tapping on her window. Squinting, she could distinctly make out the sound of a motor ringing outside, but couldn't figure out how the street moved so close to her bedroom. Dragging herself out of bed, not yet completely awake, she flung open her curtains and stared blearily outside.

A mop of red hair was the first thing her mind acknowledged. Then brown eyes. Then… a car…?

Hermione rubbed her eyes in bewilderment.

"Ron?" she asked weakly.

"Open the window!" he mouthed, banging against the glass.

She pulled back the window and stared some more. "Ron, what are you doing? And why are you in a flying car?"

"It's my dad's!" Ron had to shout to be heard over the engine. "Hermione, hurry, get in. We're going to rescue Harry!"

"Rescue… what? Ron, what are you talking about?"

"Just get in!"

Hermione hesitated for a moment. "Wait, let me change and leave a note for my parents."

When she finally climbed through the window and into the flying car, it occurred to her that this wasn't the smartest thing she'd done in her life. She must be more asleep than she thought.

Hermione was instantly wide awake when a suspicion hit her. "Can you drive?" she squeaked.

"Yes! It's pretty easy. I drove here didn't I?" Ron looked slightly embarrassed anyway. "Besides, it's just landing that's hard…" he mumbled under his breath.

Hermione missed it under the rumble of the engine.

"How did you find me?"

"Hedwig." Ron nodded to the bird flying outside, just visible ahead of them.

"Harry wrote to you?" Hermione asked eagerly. "How is he? What did he say?"

Ron scowled. "Absolutely nothing! He asks about the twins, Percy, even my mum! There's nothing in there that even talks about himself."

"That sounds like Harry…" Hermione said thoughtfully.

"No it doesn't! I think Black or Lupin made him write that letter or something. Parts of it were wrinkled, and Harry's writing's messier than usual. Something's wrong!"

"Ron," Hermione said very slowly, as if speaking to a child. "That's unlikely. Maybe Harry is busy and he wrote the letter in a hurry or something. Dumbledore wouldn't let Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin take care of Harry if they are not reliable."

"You just said before we left that Dumbledore is missing some marbles! Now you say that he's got all of them in a neat paper bag and Harry's in a normal family that just happens to encourage him to face down evil dark lords by himself?" Ron nearly screeched. The car swerved wildly to the left and they narrowly avoided crashing into a chimney. "Blimey, Hermione, you're the one who got me started on thinking Harry was being eaten!"

"Ron, I didn't say he was eaten," Hermione said, bewildered and very apprehensive. She was rapidly beginning to see her own error in judgment. "I just said that scar's in the shape of a muggle stove! I didn't say they were cannibals or anything!" 

"But you said for a scar like that, he'd have to be pushed onto the stove! You implied it!"

"You're being unreasonable!" Hermione was close to shouting in frustration. "I just said he has a burn! He could have gotten an injury, or some sort of accident, or _something_. But being _eaten_?! That's just ridiculous!"

"An accident?!" somehow, Ron just made that single declaration sound like the most preposterous belief next to Ptolemy's model of the universe.

Hermione suddenly felt an insane urge to throttle her friend and weep and the same time. "Ron, stop and turn back. We're not going anywhere!"

"No way! We're going to break Harry out of that place right now!" Ron hissed, gritting his teeth with grim determination.

"Ron!" Hermione felt vaguely frantic. Then she noticed the trees in front of them and just felt downright ill. "No, turn left! Left!!"

Part two – hunting for tasty little crunchy kids

In was dictated in Sirius Black's scriptures that mornings were to be savored and protracted to the longest extent possible. Therefore, he was considerably put out when a sharp mental tug indicated that an outlying ward had been breached, and he was abruptly and rudely forced awake. Blinking blearily, Sirius sluggishly lifted his head and looked out the window, attempting to assess the situation without leaving his bed. Years of living in peaceful seclusion taught him to be somewhat lazy.

There was really no definite cause for fear yet, considering the sheer number of barriers that surrounded the Moor House. Judging from the flashing alarm at Sirius' bedside, it seemed that it was only a minor ward that had been breached. And judging from the flashing number 'two' that hung above his blinking lamp, whoever tried to invade them was grossly underrepresented. 

_ Who was trying to peek this time? _ Sirius wondered. _The ministry or the press?_

Sadly enough, his window didn't overlook the two intruders who were trying to force their way in. _Must be on the other side of the house. Damn it. _He'd have to get up. _And damn it. _He really didn't want to.

With a long suffering sigh, Sirius rolled to the edge of the bed and resigned to let gravity do the rest of the work. He slid out of bed without bothering to untangle himself from the blankets and slugged his way to the door.

Remus was already up and pacing the hall. Somehow, he even managed to conjure himself a mug of something unidentifiable and was sipping it as he summoned a thin cloak.

Sirius briefly wondered how he could look so composed at three hours past midnight. 

"Could you see them through your window?"

"Yes," Remus' eyes darted to Harry's closed door briefly. "There's a flying car hovering above the moor."

Sirius was awake in an instant. "A… what?" Alarm was rapidly overtaking his previous apathy.

"It looked like was heading towards Harry's window before the first ward threw it off trajectory," Remus continued. "Whoever's navigating it either has a limited knowledge of wards or is following a separate agenda altogether. They're caught between the first and second barrier."

The first and second barriers were basic defense systems that third years could deactivate. Sirius was immediately suspicious.

"Is Harry awake?"

Remus shook his head. "He's not tied to these wards. But he's going to sense it if they come closer."

"Stay with Harry, and if he wakes up, make sure he stays inside," Sirius took the cloak from Remus' hand and urged him towards Harry's room. "It's likely they're trying to get us outside."

And then attack his godson when he's asleep, alone, and defenseless (well, sort of defenseless. Sirius had a good idea how damaging Harry could be in a threatening situation, but the adorable and sweet boy was his godson and therefore, completely vulnerable in Sirius' mind). Sirius gritted his teeth.

"If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, take Harry and go."

"Sirius, wait…" Remus tried to catch Sirius' arm, but he was already running for the stairs.

"Make sure Harry stays inside!"

The door slammed behind him.

Keeping up a brisk pace, Sirius followed the mild, mental tug that led him to where the barrier had been broken. The sky was still dark, and the chilly wind brooded for rain, and Sirius was rapidly reminded of the height difference between him and his friend. It was Remus' cloak that he was wearing, and it left about a third of his leg uncovered.

That departing shout probably woke his godson, Sirius reflected ruefully as he ran though the wet grass. He had been hoping Harry could get some well deserved rest after Hogwarts and doing something childish and immature (anything but homework. It had to be wrong to be working on homework so early into summer. Sirius always tried to distract Harry when his thoughts turned in the direction of school, but that usually incurred Remus' wrath). Harry had been denied too many things in his life.

And considering how sore Harry's first year was, Sirius felt justified to retreat back to their cocoon that was their home with Harry in tow. Harry was nearly _ killed_ in the safest place he could have been in. The damn castle had over a thousand years worth of various protection spells overlaid into it, and yet Harry had been attacked, burned, nearly ripped apart… by a _teacher_! Sirius was bitter. And angry. And very vengeful. Had Quirrel not died, Sirius would have ensured that he finished off the man. And had that howler not have just fifteen minutes of recording time, Sirius would have ranted longer at Dumbledore. 

Damn that headmaster. Meddlesome busybody. It was a pity he didn't drop by Hogwarts personally to give that senile piece of antique a piece of his mind. But Harry was home recovering then, and Sirius did not want to leave.

Sirius scowled grimly and cracked his knuckles around his wand.

At that point, the second barrier gave a resounding crack and collapsed. Sirius leaped back, dodging the magical whiplash, and took off at a run.

_ There they were…_ Sirius could feel it. Whoever was trying to attack them was making an awfully big racket for just two people.

Sirius rushed into the thick woods surrounding the Moor House with his wand raised and a curse ready to fling. It was dark, but he could make out the beams of light from the headlights of a car pouring through the branches. It seemed like the intruders landed their car on one of their whomping trees. Sirius aimed his wand and…

"Oh my god. I can't believe… oh my god… we're going to be in so much trouble—"

"We're fine, alright? We didn't crash into their house or anything—"

Sirius hesitated, blinking in confusion. Those voices sounded like two kids, very young kids.

"—Harry's godfather's going to kill us and—"

"Oh. I forgot about that."

A long silence. The two children, a boy and a girl it seemed, were suddenly quiet as if they were contemplating something painful. Sirius frowned as he slowly stepped forward at the mention of his godson's name. _Did they know Harry?_

"Well, he wouldn't… do anything, you think, _too_ bad—"

"Ron!! Look at this! Just look at it! Tell me we didn't do an awful thing!"

"We just bloody crashed into a bloody tree! There are lots of other bloody trees and—"

"We won't be able to get home!" Sniffle. "Oh my god…"

Sirius sighed and lowered his wand. Scratch all of those precautions. The Moor House just got invaded by two clueless children who posed no threat except to themselves. Sirius ran a hand through his hair in frustration and wondered how he should approach them and how he should throw them back out. He should probably get them out soon, considering—

"Wait. Hermione, did you feel that?"

Sniffle. "What?"

"The tree just moved…"

"…it didn't…"

Abruptly, there was a crating screech of bending metal. In the dim night with only a three-quarter moon, Sirius could barely see a wavy branch of the oak tree twist upward and swat at the car.

_ Well_, Sirius noted with some grim satisfaction, _it finally woke up._

The boy shouted in alarm.

The oak tree gave a creaking shudder, and suddenly, all of his branches were moving, joining in with the first, poking and batting at the car that was caught in its branches. Both kids were screaming now. With a loud crunch, the car was dumped on the forest floor in an impact that seemed to have cost it a couple of wheels. 

"Drive forward! Ron, hurry—"

"I'm trying. It's not starting!!"

The engine spluttered and croaked before falling silent again. The headlights of the car flickered out.

"—coming down again, Ron!"

A particularly thick arm slammed over the roof of the car, and the front windshield broke with a shower of glass fragments. The girl screamed. Sirius was becoming genuinely worried for these children. A little scare was one thing, but getting two young kids hurt was quite another.

Keeping to the shadows, Sirius stepped close to the car and murmured a soft charm that hushed the tree. The branches shuddered and fell still.

Silenced followed, broken by only ragged breathing. Sirius stepped forward. In the darkness, he could distinctly see two children, perhaps Harry's age, sitting wide-eyed and still in the car. They both looked dazed.

"Ron, you big git!" The girl wiped at her eyes, sniffing. "Look what you did! I _ told_ you we shouldn't have come!"

The boy's face scrunched up, "I didn't do this!"

"It was all your fault! We're in so much trouble…"

Quiet unexpectedly, the headlights of the car flickered back on again. The engine came to life, but it seemed completely uncontrolled. The doors of the car flew open, and Sirius vaguely glimpsed two alarmed faces before the car catapulted its occupants out the doors. The car cranked up in reverse and drove off in the forest. A small body slammed into Sirius with enough force to wind him before he managed to stun the fleeing thing. Out of instinct, Sirius caught the smaller figure and stared down at what the car burped up.

It was the girl who was screaming before. She looked up, her face framed by a shock of frizzy brown hair, her eyes and mouth both equally wide. 

_ Oh. This is interesting. Now what? _

If the girl had been Harry, Sirius wouldn't have been speechless. He would have thrown his godson over his shoulder, or ruffled his hair, or something that would have made his godson laugh. And if the girl had been a couple of years older, Sirius would have probably hexed her out of the Moor House or at least demanded why she was present, but… well, this thing was a _kid_.

Sirius blinked rather stupidly down at the girl.

And the girl responded with the most bloodcurdling scream that Sirius had ever had the misfortune of hearing.

"_Hermione_!! What are you _doing_ to her?! Let her _go_ you—"

The boy's shout came from the other side of the car, and Sirius distantly noted a redheaded boy charging at him before he was attacked from the side. Surprised, Sirius let the kid kick and scream at him. Instinct (and lots of fist fighting experience from his not so refined Hogwarts days) took over, and Sirius ducked his haphazardly aimed fists and gripped the front of his robes. 

Sirius plucked the boy off the ground. 

Both kids squeaked.

"Would either of you like to explain what you were doing here?" Sirius said with deliberate calmness.

"We… we…" the boy trembled.

His legs were kicking about wildly, and Sirius held him out so that he the boy couldn't make him a target. Adjusting his grip so that he wasn't choking the kid, Sirius leaned over him in a manner that he knew would be very intimidating. 

"We…?" Sirius prodded. He was mixing some Auror techniques in the interrogation.

"We wanted to… visit Harry," the boy gulped, his brown eyes darting about wildly.

Sirius narrowed his eyes and his hand tightened on the boy's collar. The boy paled until his freckles became islands.

"And what made you think you may visit Harry?" Sirius' voice had dropped into a low whisper in his anger. 

Harry had enough hero-worshippers; he didn't need children his age to treat him like a display case. The poor kid was cursed to never be a child.

"We really had no permission," the girl whispered shakily. "I'm really sorry, Mr…"

"Black," Sirius supplied.

The girl's expression brightened in awe and curiosity. "You're Sirius Black?" 

"If you're here to ask questions, I'm going to leave both of you right here," Sirius bit out stiffly.

"No, we weren't!" the girl said quickly. "We wanted to see Harry. We haven't seen him since school ended. The letter Harry sent to Ron was so short, we thought…"

Sirius' thoughts backpedaled. "He wrote to you?"

"No, to Ron," the girl pointed at the boy dangling from Sirius' grasp. "We followed Hedwig here."

Sirius glanced at the boy who looked ready to lose all his blood and suddenly remembered the names in Harry's letters.

"Ron Weasley? Hermione Granger?" 

Both kids nodded frantically.

_ Whoops._

Sirius released Hermione and slowly set Ron back onto the ground. Both of them immediately huddled together and stared at him like two defenseless quails in the face of a hungry dog. Sirius felt like an evil child tormentor.

With a rueful grimace, Sirius conjured up a blue flame that cast an eerie glow across the trees. Judging from the way the two kids' jumped backwards in panic, Sirius noted the light probably did the same thing to his face.

"You should have written before you flew in," Sirius said, fixing both with a stern glare. The kids looked even more terrified, and Sirius noted that the blue light probably made his unnaturally pale irises blend in with the whites of his eyes. "Harry would have explained to you why no one has ever interviewed or even seen us for five years. The wards that surround this house are enough to even keep Dumbledore out if we decide to bar him. You are lucky you crashed before you broke through the sixth barrier. That would have ripped your wand arm from your body if you didn't have the necessary precautions."

Hermione gave a shocked gasp and Ron shoved her behind him defensively. The glare on the kid's face would have looked rather impressive if he wasn't trembling. Sirius mentally chided himself.

"Never mind."

"We wanted to see Harry," Ron blurted stiffly. "We barely got to see him after… that incident, and we… we wanted to check on him to see if he's okay and if… we just wanted to see him!"

Sirius glanced at Ron, pleasantly surprised and touched. Ron had seemed so rash and volatile before, but his bold words made Sirius look at the young boy differently. Such young children but such loyalty… Harry had two wonderful friends…

Sirius felt an ear-splitting grin erupt over his face. Ron's face pinched in shock and sweat began trickling down the sides of his face in rivers. Sirius was too happy to take much notice.

He clasped both kids on the shoulder, oblivious to the way Ron jumped in fear, and ushered them forward. 

"Of course you may see him! Let's go inside."

"In… inside…?" Ron spluttered shakily.

"How else will you see Harry?" Sirius cheerfully responded. 

Ron twitched. "We'll just see Harry and leave."

"Not tonight."

"We can come tomorrow!" Ron said quickly. 

"Nah, we can't let Harry's friends go all the way back home. Your car still needs retrieving."

"We don't want to be a bother. We could leave. We should leave."

He made a motion to run back but Sirius snagged the back of his robe. Sirius proceeded to lead the way to the Moor House an arm thrown over each child's shoulder. The eerie floating lamp hovered after them.

"Nonsense. Stay the night. In fact, you can stay the weekend and keep Harry company," Sirius patted the kids on the back. "You're no bother. Remus can send owls to your families to inform them of your plans."

Sirius grinned. Ron looked ready to become violently sick.

*

I'm not sure if many people remember this Universe anymore. It's been many, many months since I've written anything, and I will be very shocked if anyone still remembers me. A couple people asked before in Good Intentions whether or not Harry is still good friends with Ron and Hermione. The way they were presented, it felt as though they were only acquaintances. This finally addresses the friendship between them. It's rather long overdue.

The cannibalism part is… well… humm… I'll stop here with the notes. Trying to work myself off self bashing and its working so far. But the author's notes seem to have shortened considerably.

A brief heads up, am moving dorms so there will be a period of 1 to 3 months where I have no internet connection by about next week. Persistence of Memory and Clawtracks of a Star will be on hold briefly, but I'll still be writing without posting. Sorry about that!


	2. hunting for Harry cakes

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.

a/n: in which Hermione begins to question Harry's family setting, in which Ron attempts a kidnapping of Harry, in which the overprotective godfather and ever peaceful werewolf are forced into several awkward situations.

**Hunting for Marbles**

By neutral

Part three – hunting for blueberry pancakes and Harry sauce

Remus could smell the blueberry pancakes sizzling from the stairwell. Inwardly smiling, he quickened his pace, already anticipating the sight that would greet him in the kitchen: Harry standing on the footstool—less than necessary now as Harry had grown while away at school—with a wooden spoon in one hand and a plate in another, the mixing bowl hovering behind him. 

Remus had missed such mornings when Harry was at Hogwarts. Things were never the same with the twelve year-old gone, and with both his and Sirius' wayward habits, it was rare that the two of them sat down for breakfast together—though it should hardly be counted as breakfast at the hours they usually ate; their normal meals consisted of lunch, dinner, and midnight snacks numbers one and two. Harry's absence had set loose all of Sirius and Remus' festering bad habits. 

It would be nice if the school term was the length of their vacation time and Harry could be home for nine months out of the year. Home wouldn't feel so large, so empty, so agonizingly quiet… but no, that was Sirius in his mind talking and Remus should _not_ listen. 

Remus hushed his footsteps as he neared the kitchen door, and sure enough, Harry was on his footstool beside the stove, just as Remus had predicted. The boy's expression was thoughtful as he gazed out the window, his eyes unfocused in a manner that Remus instantly recognized. Harry had sensed the two broken barriers and was trying to figure out why Moor House suddenly felt different…

Speaking of which, it was a good time to tell Harry about his two friends who had invaded them in a flying car the previous night. _A flying car…_ Remus sighed. _Gods, what kind of dangerous, stubborn, reckless friends do Harry have?_

The sound of footsteps distracted him, and Remus turned to see Sirius stepping into the room, absentmindedly combing his fingers through his hair. Remus blinked. Sirius looked… well, _awake_. It was a shock to see Sirius out of bed at eight in the morning when he wasn't off to work at his mysterious 'job'.

Sirius caught his eye and gestured him over with a conspiring—and very frightening—grin. "Does Harry know yet?" He sounded like a parent about to dress up as Father Christmas.

"No, but he was testing the wards just now. Harry knows we were invaded sometime last night," Remus shot Sirius an uneasy glance. "You're not implying that we—"

Sirius' grin widened impossibly. "Don't tell him."

"Sirius," Remus grimaced. "Harry will be—"

"Exactly! That's the whole idea. Come on."

Remus' stomach gave a discomforting lurch as he watched Sirius practically glide the rest of the way to the kitchen. He was suddenly reminded of those adolescent days when he had been thoroughly embarrassed by his parents in front of his friends ('_Oh, Remus sweetie, it's too cold. Come inside and put on this scarf,' _or gods, even worse_ '… don't be afraid to firecall us when you have nightmares, and I packed your teddy just in case you feel lonely…'_ plus the rest of his mother's infamous fifteen minute lectures at the Platform 9 ¾). He had nothing but fond memories of his parents now, but when he was young and naïve and insecure, he wouldn't have minded so much if his mother had spontaneously transformed into a mushroom on the train platform. And Harry… well, the boy would never be embarrassed by his guardians. He had lived too long in seclusion to know how to act like a normal child his age, but Remus still didn't want to do anything… _silly_.

_No finger-combing Harry's hair in front of his friends_, Remus told himself firmly. _No fussing, no pats on the head, no bickering with Sirius…_

There was a whiff of burnt bread in the kitchen. Remus stepped inside just in time to see Harry hurriedly scrapping off the contents of a pan bottom onto a plate. Harry frowned, prodding at the lump experimentally. It deflated. With a soft sigh, Harry opened the window and tipped the plate full of _something_ into a gardenia bush.

Sirius and Remus exchanged knowing glances. 

Harry was feeding their population of chocolate frogs again, which, strangely enough, only ate sugar. Ever since Remus had set a box of them free three years ago—Sirius had placed a curse over their pantry to make its contents alive and rabid, a ploy, he claimed, to cure Remus of his chocolate addiction but Remus _knew _Sirius wanted to see him clawing through withdrawal, _the idiot_—, the animals had set up a colony in the undergrowth besides one of their streams and multiplied like rabbits. No one really felt like getting rid of them. Remus, though he never admitted aloud, was secretly amused by them, Sirius hunted them on occasion, and Harry used them as practice snitches. Besides that, the chocolate frogs were pretty much given free reign over all of Moor House grounds.

The grin on Sirius' face looked more and more difficult to contain. Striding up, he leaned over Harry's head to peer out the window. 

"Feeding the frogs?" There was a smile in Sirius' voice. "You're going to give them indigestion."

Harry turned, tucking the plate behind him, and gave his godfather the most innocent expression he could muster. "It was just a pancake!"

"_That_ was a pancake?" Sirius asked. "It looks a bit like the leg of a miniature poodle with three hamster ears—" 

Remus shook his head. Sirius had the most disturbing imagination when it came to free association.

"No! Don't look!" Laughing, Harry attempted to drag his godfather away from the window and received a hair-ruffling for his efforts. 

"Is that going to be our breakfast too?" Sirius mused. 

"No," Harry blushed, but brightened quickly, "but you could trap those frogs. Would Moony mind chocolate for breakfast?" Standing on tiptoe, Harry peered over Sirius arm to look at Remus questioningly.

It was becoming harder to conceal his amusement at their antics. 

"Yes, Moony will mind, as Moony does not want Talons to have decaying teeth like Padfoot." Remus folded his arms. "And Moony protests at the unfair treatment of Talons by Padfoot," Remus added with a wry grin, "and insists that Talons retaliate by attaching Padfoot to the ceiling."

Sirius grimaced, possibly at the thought that it wouldn't be difficult for Harry to attach anything or _ anyone _to the ceiling. "Well, now, if there's anyone who should be permanently glued to a wall, it should be our nocturnal sugar-addict. Harry, if only you knew how many chocolate cakes Moony finished _by himself _during that one week when he suffered a bout of writer's block, you'd wonder how he manages to fit through the door—"

Remus glared. "Sirius, I did _not_—"

"And he claims to have sleepwalked!" Sirius added with a flourish, plucking the plate out of Harry's hand and marching him to the dining room. "Can you imagine?"

"I still claim that you sleepwalked," Remus deadpanned. "Fourth year, you—"

Sirius groaned. "No, that was—"

"—stole all our socks—"

"—your hex, I just know it—"

"—and walked in circles in the dormitory eating parchment."

Harry choked. "Sirius did?"

No matter how hard Remus tried, he couldn't get that grin off his face. "Yes, and we couldn't wake him up. Eventually, we had to hex him."

The godfather huffed and threw a sullen glare over his shoulder. "You had my pillow rigged with sleepwalking salve."

Remus was about to deny the accusation when something about Sirius' tone stayed him. Remus eyed his friend suspiciously. "You rigged mine, didn't you?"

Sirius sighed tragically. "Well now, that is slander. Listen to that, Harry."

Remus was about to reply with a sharp retort, until the thought of Harry's friends stayed him. _No, behave!_ Remus mentally chided himself. 

Sirius, noting his silence, grinned brightly. "Padfoot, tally one."  


Remus was sorely tempted to take a swat at Sirius' head. "Don't give yourself any tallies until you cleaned out your room, you oversized infant."

The amused expression on Harry's face was eerily similar to the one Dumbledore wore whenever he watched the Marauders' antics. For a moment, Remus wondered if perhaps Harry was spending too much time with the Headmaster.

"Maybe the chocolate cakes ate each other?" Harry offered quietly.

Remus smiled. "Could be. Come, Harry, let's finish making breakfast. We need to set the table for five this morning."

"Five?" Harry blinked up at him curiously. "Do we have visitors? Is that why Moor House felt larger this morning?"

Remus was ready to cave in and explain, but Sirius shot him a somewhat muted version of his I'm-an-evil-grim-fear-me glare over Harry's head. Remus hesitated.

"Well… uhh…" _Quick! A diversion!_ "What is that?" Remus sniffed the air and wrinkled his brow thoughtfully. "Harry, you smell like… is that blueberry pancake mix?"

"Low fat, extra buttery, twenty percent more fluffy," Harry recited.

"I thought Padfoot finished the last of that back in October."

"It was in the back of the pantry," Harry explained. "Though, it was acting really strange…"

Sirius coughed and Remus inwardly sighed. Even after three years, they never were able to completely cure the pantry of Sirius' curse.

"Well, now that all the pancakes have gone to the frogs, we shall need something else to feed the starving masses," Sirius reflected with feigned thoughtfulness. "Perhaps we need to hunt."

"For something small and easy to subdue," Remus added, easily slipping back into their casual banter.

"With fluffy hair and titanium glasses and snitches on his socks." Grinning, Sirius ruffled Harry's hair.

Harry's eyes darted between his two guardian's faces in happy horror. With a startled squeak that sounded very birdlike, Harry ducked under Sirius' arm and made a mad dash for the door. Laughing, Remus intercepted Harry, catching him by the waist and easily swinging him off his feet.

"Can't have our Harry cake running away now, not with all our stomachs still empty," Remus informed him, seating Harry neatly on the breakfast table.

"Harry cakes taste awful," Harry said fervently. "They taste like peat and duck feet and…"

Remus tickled his sides and Harry dissolved into barely suppressed mirth. Harry squirmed, trying to escape, but Remus was merciless. He tickled the boy until Harry looked ready to keel over from laughter.

_Well… this certainly isn't the model of maturity, is it? _ Remus reflected faintly. But at the moment he didn't particularly care, because good mood was infectious and Harry was home and it was such a relief to have their small little family whole again and…

A sharp jab in the ribs from Sirius cut his musings short. 

Remus stilled. Harry, slightly disoriented, nearly toppled over the edge of the table and Remus quickly caught his shoulders to support him. Glancing over his shoulder, Remus noticed Sirius waving to the direction of the door.

"Awake already?" he called.

Remus choked. 

The red headed boy—Ron, was it?_—_was standing behind them, his two eyes in perfect circles as he stared at Remus in open-mouthed horror. Remus could feel his face heating up, which was completely wrong because he almost never blushed, but Harry's friend had just seen them in the middle of a tickle war and… gods, could anything be more awkward?

Beside him, Sirius stifled a snicker. Remus resisted the urge to glare.

"Good morning," Remus greeted with a warm smile. "Sleep well?"

Ron gulped, his hand fumbling through his robe pocket. Remus frowned. _Is he reaching for his wand?_

"Ron? What…?" Harry's eyes were wide in surprise as he stared at his friend.

"He dropped in at three this morning," Sirius told him, "with another… the bushy haired girl?"

"Hermione? She's here too?" A brilliant smile came over Harry's face, and he leaped off the breakfast table—both Remus and Sirius instinctively tried to catch him—and ran to his friend. "How did you come here? Why didn't you tell me you were coming? You should have written, it's—"

Harry broke off when the boy flushed an alarming shade of scarlet and marched forward in a manner that strongly reminded Remus of Sirius on a vengeful mission. He pushed Harry behind him and slowly backed towards the door, glaring daggers at Remus all along the way.

"Err… Ron?" Harry began cautiously. "What are you doing?"

"Run, Harry!" Ron hissed, and pushed Harry the rest of the distance away.

Remus blinked. The two boys vanished through the doorway. Silence reigned over the dining room.

"I think you scared him," Sirius said finally, looking aggravatingly amused, "Padfoot, tally two."

Coughing, Remus flicked the closest thing he could grab—which unfortunately was a raisin—at Sirius' head.

*

Remus' point of view is somewhat wordy, and really, not much is explained yet, just a lot of bickering and repeating of all the things Remus vowed not to do. He's somewhat background heavy and it fills up more background, though... *sigh* I hope its amusing nonetheless.

ack. It's taken weeks and weeks of procrastination, and the second part is still on its first line. All in all, I'm really sorry. So much for writing during vacation. Actually, writing is easier when there are threats of finals or midterms looming overhead. The muse is more inspired then, oddly enough. 

I'm really sorry. This is only the first half of the second chapter, but the second part doesn't seem to want to come and now my muse is looking back towards Persistence of Memory. So this shall be delayed even more... plus, I missed the December deadline and promise of updating at least once every month. So now, for another really sad story / excuse of why this took a month instead of a week, and still severed in half, here comes:

Once upon a time there was a strange girl without a brain who thought she ought to attempt a story about a little boy and his strange friends and his even stranger family and while she was writing it, she ate little teddy grams and thought they looked like humans and wondered if humans ought to eat humans to decrease overpopulation when the world goes berserk one day and suddenly, cannibalism appeared in the story. That was quite unexpected, but the strange girl wrote on and suddenly the chocolate frogs went insane and the pantry became the pantry of doom that made everything insane and rabid and weird. Then her socks came alive and went dancing across the street and she nearly got ran over so she hid in the movie theater and watched Return of the King eleven times and err... other stuff happened.

Ack, ran out of steam.

there is a livejournal now, username neutrallized. It basically repeats everything that is said on ACKisms but it saves bandwith on rubie's server. I will be replying to reviews on both ACKisms and Life in a Box, though... it probably will be delayed by a day or so. Ack, sorry about that! And for the delay too...

On a side note: Happy New Year everyone!


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